


Everything Can Change (In a New York Minute)

by Sangerin



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Cycling, Dan/Casey - Freeform, M/M, Sportsbackinsn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-04
Updated: 2007-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sangerin/pseuds/Sangerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A devastated Dan meant a late night at a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Can Change (In a New York Minute)

It wasn't as though Casey just woke up gay one morning. It was only that it felt like it.

He'd spent the previous evening commiserating with Dan over Floyd Landis' spectacular collapse in stage sixteen of the Tour de France - Dan had been driving him nuts for weeks: the two and a half that the Tour had been running, and all the weeks before in the build-up to the first "Lance-less" tour in eight years. But when Landis practically started going down La Toussuire instead of up, Dan was devastated, and a devastated Dan meant a late night at a bar, and the likelihood of a headache the next morning.

A devastated Dan was also a Dan whom Casey felt obligated to protect; he always looked pathetic and yet oddly adorable. And although Casey tried to blame it on the alcohol or the lack of sleep or any number of other reasons, the plain fact of the matter was that Casey's dreams that night were filled with images of Dan in various states of undress and arousal … and those dreams were far more explicit than they'd ever been before. It was also a fact, however, that this wasn't the first time that Casey had dreamed of Dan.

Casey made an executive decision that morning that he didn't need to be in the office until approximately five seconds before the commencement of the noon rundown. It was, in fact, what his contract said, and a noon-to-midnight workday was still four hours longer than the beloved Eight Hour Day. Until the noon rundown, technically he didn't know what stories were likely to be on the night's show, and therefore there was no script to write. In the face of weariness, a headache, and the after-effects of his dreams, Casey decided that it was Work-to-Rule day.

He got a bagel and coffee and the New York Times, and had a leisurely breakfast. And then he walked. Up and down the streets of Manhattan, trying to squash memories of Dan's periodic bouts of "New York Renaissance", and all the irritation that accompanied it. Because he couldn't stop thinking about Dan.

It wasn't just the dream. Sometime during the night, Casey's thinking had shifted. The world looked slightly different, even though he knew everything was in the same place it had been the day before. Even his memories were slightly different. He found himself going over conversations with Dan in his head, re-reading them slightly, weighing them for possible meaning. Then dismissed the thoughts, or tried to, and headed for the QVC offices.

He walked into the office he shared with Dan - that he'd shared with Dan for almost ten years - and found Dan with a wide grin across his face. 'You'll never believe what happened!'

'Do we have the time before rundown for you to tell me?' Seeing Dan this happy so soon was a surprise to Casey, who'd left Dan despondent and drunk only ten hours ago.

'Probably not, but you'll hear in run-down.'

'Landis?' They walked together into the conference room

'Won stage seventeen, baby!' Natalie cheered, arms in the air. Then she and Dan high-fived and hugged.

Casey turned to Dana. 'How often have they done that already?'

Dana was studying the rundown draft and didn't even look up. 'I hate you for not arriving earlier than this, Casey.'

'I'm on a work-to-rule campaign,' Casey explained. The look Dana gave him could have stopped the Tour peleton in its tracks.

Casey turned away from Dana and her slow-combustion burn. Dan and Natalie were comparing favourite moments from stage seventeen, which had finished a couple hours earlier, while Casey had been having his own version of a New York Renaissance.

'Did you see him? When he just powered up behind the leaders and then… boom,' Natalie illustrated with a hand gesture.

'Most. Amazing. Stage. Ever.'

'Hyperventilating isn't going to help any of us, Dan,' said Casey.

'Do you think I care? Landis is amazing.'

Casey stood back, taking in the image of Dan, so wound up with joy he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning, his face all lit up.

Dan noticed that he was being watched. 'What's up?'

'Nothing.' Casey let himself smile just a little. 'Just good to see you happy.'

Dan tilted his head a little at Casey's words, then nodded, smiled, and went back to dissecting Landis' performance.

* * *

The last few days of the Tour the maillot jaune went back and forth, Landis to Pereiro and back again, all the way to the end of the time trial.

But the race finished the way it was supposed to - in Dan's view - with Landis in yellow on the final day, drinking champagne and grinning almost as broadly as Dan. Back home the team scrambled for soundbites from Landis' parents; got pictures of them coming home from church Sunday morning on their own bicycles. A QVC reporter trod on Mrs Landis' flowerbeds, and Dana banished him to report on the professional curling circuit. She even meant it.

Dan was gearing up for the post-Tour criterion races. The show wasn't going to report them; the races had no affect on Pro-Tour rankings, they were simply a chance for Dutch and German audiences, mostly, to see their heroes race in evening races that spectators could easily attend in the city streets after the work day was over. But Dan was caught up in his love of cycling, and he followed the feeds he could get from Eurosport obsessively.

And then L'Equipe published the rumours, and the rumours turned out to have a certain, disputed, basis in fact, and Dan's smiles faded away.

Jeremy made the mistake of asking Dan his opinion of the L'Equipe allegations.

'Cheese-eating surrender monkeys,' he said, and Jeremy laughed. 'No, I mean it. They're scum. Do you know how the Tour started, Jeremy.'

'Advertising for L'Equipe.'

'And as a result, they think they own the race, the competitors, and the title. If the average European fan has had issues with Armstrong winning seven in a row, L'Equipe haven't shut up about it. They think the Tour belongs to Europe, and they don't like upstart Yanks stealing it away.'

'That's a little --'

'Unfair? There are links between the lab and the paper. We know it. And the paper times their leaks with precision. Always, always in the buildup to a major event, or during the event itself. Almost always before the sport's governing body has told the athlete involved. They've got it in for Americans,' Dan continued, as Jeremy shrugged his shoulders at Casey, who had joined them, and was watching Dan with concern. 'They've probably got it in for anyone who isn't French, ultimately, and especially anyone who beats a French favourite.'

Casey took Dan by the arm and shepherded him into their office, closing the door behind them.

'You know, I bet someday that scandal-rag will accuse someone like…' he paused momentarily, casting about for a name. '… Like Ian Thorpe of taking drugs. Or Michael Phelps.'

'Dan,' said Casey, holding Dan by both forearms, 'Calm down. It's one newspaper.'

'It's one of the most amazing sporting achievements I've ever seen sullied by an organisation that seems determined to target really good athletes. And they have a thing against Americans.'

Dan was calming down, beginning to pout. And Casey found his eyes drawn to Dan's pouting lips. He was still dealing with his realisations of the week before: it wasn't easy to cope with the fact that he was sexually attracted to his best friend. And co-anchor. In a gay-unfriendly part of the business. But Dan was pouting, and when he opened his mouth to continue his accusations against any and all French journalists, Casey decided he didn't care about French journalists, but he did care about Dan, and he lifted his hands from Dan's arms to cup Dan's face, and kissed him.

He pressed his lips against Dan's, and then pulled back a little. Brought their lips back together again, and then when Dan opened his mouth a little, Casey opened his, too. Dan ran his tongue along Casey's upper lip, and Casey drew in a breath at the sensation, but didn't break the kiss.

It was Dan who pulled back, pushed back, hands against Casey's chest, looking back at Casey, head titled a little to the side. 'Uh, Case?'

'Something wrong, Dan?'

'No... just, that was unexpected.'

'Not everything unexpected is bad, Daniel,' said Casey, leaning in to renew the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Putting the Sports Back in _Sports Night_ challenge, about Floyd Landis' still-disputed win in the 2006 Tour de France.


End file.
